Shireroth

Windstill calm surrounded us as we slowly flew on our little airship through the green thick air. Neither you nor I knew where we were going. It had been desirable, we both thought, if the thickness of the colour of air would disappear so that we could see the sky in its azure might with small, white clouds hovering here and there. But look! As I held you in my arms, I pointed toward a glimpse of sapphire sky through an opening of the thick green air. And believe it or not, a ray of sun touched us.

The captain, clad nicely in uniform and all and so, came walking to us, smiled and said: “We closing in on Huyenkula in the land of the lakes!”I smiled, nodded, and bowed slightly with my head, to smile again and thank him. The next we heard was a yeoman loudly shouting “Ship ahoy! All men to their stations! Prepare for landing! Ship ahoy!”

And toward the city of Huyenkula the ship began its final descent. Through the layers of an autumn's atmosphere, the ship descended, layer by layer till we saw buildings and parks, and a great body of water which small brooks fed with nature's blood. To the outer deck we walked; we really wanted to see the descent, in action, so to say. It was freezing, and we saw that on rooftops of Huyenkula buildings, structures and trees and bushes, frost lay. You took my hand and you whispered words of warmth. And I, I held you, no cold should touch you. But you just smiled, said “All is well, my friend”. Then you hugged me as if I were a life you had sculptured.

As most of Hurmu is covered in wilderness and roads are unreliable, most traffic go through the air. In Huyenkula, the sky is dominated by airships of all sizes, aeroplanes and helicopters. They compete for the three-dimensional road to Hurmu's all towns, villages and hamlets. No-one, wherever he or she may live, shall be without basic communications. Huyenkula is the hub of Hurmu's aerolinear traffic.

The story isn't a real one. It's a recurring story in Hurmu culture. Friendship as one descends to Hurmu. The Hurmu diaspora is scattered all over the world. Slowly the lost sons and daughters return to their land of their fore-elders. There is an adventure in the story: going to Huyenkula. But at the same time, it is not that which matters. It is friendship, companionship and love. “Sometimes,” a Hurmu philosopher put it, “journeying, adventuring – whatever it may be – is not so much about the destination but, rather, the way there.”